Oh, to walk the city streets on stilts
gleefully splashing through flooded streets.
To tiptoe over canal bridges
without waking ogres underneath.
And when the downpours start,
pluck an overturned umbrella, decorating a skyline street.
With unhurried pace and nimble feet,
I’d ascend the Golden Mount
without startling the blood-red parrot fish squabbling underneath
and humbly make my offering
on sore, but bone-dry feet.
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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